I was privileged to hear the contralto Marian Anderson when I was 14 years old. It proved to be a life-changing experience; she established my lifetime benchmark of performance and communication. She did this solely by example at a single event.

Anderson presented a solo concert in the (movie) theater of our small town. I had never heard an ‘opera star’, certainly, and I don’t think I had ever seen a black woman before. I was the first one in the theater, dressed in my Sunday best. I sat in the middle of a front row by myself and waited. I was to have my first experience of Presence, Excellence and Graciousness.

Presence: Simply put, she was stunning. The totality of her bearing spoke of poise and purpose and self-possession. Her body erect, her head held high, kinetic energy ready to spring forth. To see her was to catch your breath and wait to see what she would do. While we speak of nonverbal communication and consider our hair-cuts and professional wardrobe, her presence was a complete ownership of her space and her time. Being ‘O.K.’ was not enough for Anderson.

She had me rapt the instant she stepped on the stage. I could not see her feet taking steps when she appeared. She seemed to flow onto the stage, wearing a long white satin gown. She stopped and turned in the middle of the stage and just froze, her hands clasped in front of her. But her long white satin train continued to wind around her. I didn’t know women could look like this, move like this, could make you stop breathing. I was ready to believe anything she told me.

Excellence: Whatever she did, she did well. Her passion for excellence revealed itself in every note, and every gesture. There was no slack to her focus and energy even as she received applause. She was in readiness for her next song. Her voice filled that theater so that it reverberated from every surface. It has been called ‘the voice of America’s soul’. Jessye Norman said, “Her voice…made me think that if the planet Earth could sing, it would sound something like Marian Anderson.” Her eyes held you while she sang directly to you. She was in constant contact with the people in her audience.

Hers was an act of communication, not performance. The more you have barriers and props of podiums, audio-visual aids or reading, the less an audience has a sense of relationship with you. Her kind of excellence rested on the painstaking preparation that allowed her to connect with people with intimacy and immediacy.

Graciousness: After the concert, I hid in the velvet curtains until all the grown-ups left her dressing room, then knocked on her door. I was trembling, shaken and teary-eyed. She was humble, she was sincere, and she listened intently to what I had to say to her. She acted as if she were being blessed by me when I told her how deeply moved I was by her singing. Will I ever forget how she took both of my hands in hers and patted them, saying, “Thank you, my dear. Thank you so much!” She made me feel as if I had done something extraordinary!

My life was changed forever by this celebrated singer, this gracious lady. I hope that I may share her great gift with you.

Copyright © 2004 Dr. Carol Fleming. All Rights Reserved.
Permission to reprint with author and website acknowledgement.